“I’d like you to come around to my house this afternoon, after school Dave,” she told me, “to go over your setwork. I can see you are battling...with Shakespeare, and don’t fully understand Hamlet. I’ll go over it with you. I’ll see you there at about four, okay?” I agreed, and continued with my school day. After school, I went home, changed into jeans and a t-shirt, and set off to her house, which was only a few blocks away. I got there at four o’clock sharp and rang the doorbell. She answered. I tried to talk to them and I was ignored and the best part is Beth was right. I’m not wanted here, not unless you want to count to make the perfect family feel less guilty about their upper class ways. Get one thing straight, there isn’t a person in this room that has been there for me to the point that I would call them family in almost a decade. NOT ONE PERSON! All of you are a family, I’m just the shitty trophy from Mom’s first marriage that she won when she somehow screwed my father out of. More

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